rospects.

For was it not a point worth carrying--to get both the money and the
owner of it into his own hands? Not that he meant conscious dishonesty
to Annie. He only rejoiced to think that he would thus satisfy any
expectations that the public might have formed of him, and would enjoy
besides a splendid increase of capital for his business; while he hoped
to keep the girl upon less than the interest would come to. And then,
if anything should happen to her--seeing she was not over vigorous--the
result was worth waiting for; whereas--if she throve--he had sons
growing up, one of whom might take a fancy to the heiress, and would
have facilities for marrying her, &c. &c.; for Grocer Robert was as
deep in his foresight and scheming as King Robert, the crowning triumph
of whose intellect, in the eyes of his descendant, was the strewing of
the caltrops on the field of Bannockburn.

But James Dow was _ill-pleased_ when he heard of the arrangement--which
was completed in due time. "For," said he, "I canna bide that Bruce.
He's a naisty mean cratur. He wadna fling a bane till a dog, afore he
had ta'en a pyke at it himsel'." He agreed, however, with his mistress,
that it would be better to keep Annie in ignorance of her destiny as
long as possible; a consideration which sprung from the fact that her
aunt, now that she was on the eve of parting with her, felt a little
delicate growth of tenderness sprouting over the old stone wall of her
affection for the child, owing its birth, in part, to the doubt whether
she would be comfortable in her new home.

CHAPTER VII.

A day that is fifty years off comes as certainly as if it had been in
the next week; and Annie's feeling of infinite duration did not stop
the sand-glass of Old Time. The day arrived when everything was to be
sold by public _roup_. A great company of friends, neighbours, and
acquaintances gathered; and much drinking of whisky-punch went on in
the kitchen as well as in the room where, a few months before, the
solemn funeral-assembly had met.

Little Annie speedily understood what all the bustle meant: that the
day of desolation so long foretold by the Cassandra-croak of her aunt,
had at length actually arrived, and that all the things she knew so
well were vanishing from her sight for ever.

She was in the barn when the sound of the auctioneer's voice in the
corn-yard made her look over the half-door and listen. Gradually the
truth dawned upon her; a